


Hot Water

by Thefacelesswriter



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Gentle Rant, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefacelesswriter/pseuds/Thefacelesswriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The water will grow hot and I will have to pull my feet out. Soon, I know, but not now. I know I can enjoy it for a little bit longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Water

Sometimes, when the guns are quiet, I lean over the balcony and into my world. There, I listen as I do right now. The animals chatter quietly, soldiers down below and birds in the trees. I know he’s out there, running around like a spiteful dog with one too many splinters in its coat. Perhaps he was always an angry little shit. Boys are always taught to lock rage behind a facade of apathy but I know, in the end, rage will always show its reddened face. It can hit wives and kill the opposition and do all sorts of nasty things when left to stew in a man. And yet, in this case, that boy lets his anger wear him as smoothly as a glove. I would love to use the phrase ‘like father, like son’, but obviously I cannot. Ajay Ghale is the bastard of a bastard, and yet there is a charm to him that has me grinning. 

I remain still and listening, looking onto the paradise before me. The cold air from the mountains veiled in cloud runs on the wind and hits me fast in the throat, no different to a gentle punch. I haven’t been hit in a long while. I can’t say if I miss the feeling or not. You put a knife in someone’s chest and they simply turn to string, can’t do anything with their hands except make them spasm. Now Ajay, I’m afraid I’d stick a knife in his spine and he’d deliver kicks that could break knees. Like a plague he’s spreading across my kingdom, leaving the carnage of his playtime in his path. I may as well be his father, cleaning up the shit-storm he leaves behind while throwing more cavalry for him to sink his teeth into. Soon, I’ll get worried. The water will grow hot and I will have to pull my feet out. Soon, I know, but not now. I know I can enjoy it for a little bit longer.

I remember she and I once looked at that view and I told her in full confidence that I loved her. As soon as the words left my lips I knew that I had made a mistake. Her eyes showed me something dark, not the wickedness I like; it was aimed against me. I should have killed her when I had such good chances, sleeping next to her naked form that rose and fell with each silent breath. I could have, but love is a bond that kept my hands tied. And so I remained still until she left, my Ishwari and the child on her hip. The hate I had for her had once been strong but now she’s nothing more than some dust in a vase, those harsh feelings have subsided. And even dead she makes the game more exciting than it ever has been: a minx in both life and death. 

Now the guards have begun to shout and run like a group of rapid monkeys. I peer over the ledge and see a car setting through the gates, tearing down the tracks towards destination unknown. Ah Ajay, if only you knew the excitement you bring to me. Perhaps if you’d have stayed for our luncheon you would have seen my way, though I doubt a stubborn little shit of a Ghale would understand. Nevertheless, I would have tried. I realize now that you are a force better to be with than against.

Our picture from that first day is set on my phone as the background, wallpaper, whatever the hell people call it. It makes me smile every time I lay eyes upon it. It is my personal phone for personal errands that everyone in fucking Kyrat seems to have the number for. The face he makes is simply priceless. I wish I’d taken more, ones where he didn’t have the bag on his head. Every time I hear my phone ring I see his boyish face and realize how large a transition has occurred within him. From boy to man, or man to animal, either way something changed. Ajay will never go back to being simple. He’ll marry a Golden Path whore and have children that follow his lead, either that or die. It makes me itch to consider it.

I never got the old man’s name, the one I showed this very view to as he slowly bled out. The stains still linger on the floor. The maid said it would never come out. This is an age where I can send a photo of this mountain range to a brothel owner in Sweden within seconds and yet we still have no clue how to make the floors fucking stain proof. I’ll make sure to hide it when Ajay finally visits, be it a surprise or not. I’m sure the blood of an honest man will make his own boil. He’ll think he can kill me. The Golden Path of shit will have prepared him, insisting I am simply a frail old man atop a crumbling tower into which they push their explosives. 

The view is breathtaking, though not really my thing. The phone rings in my pocket, perhaps news on which building Ajay and his newfound path has decided to fuck around in. I can’t stay here forever. Already a minute has dripped past, too much time to spend glancing at simple things. The kingdom calls for its king, and I shall not leave it waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to get all the information as straight as I can in this (I haven't finished and therefore all the facts aren't know to me), though I still hand out apologies like candy if I got something really fucking obvious wrong. I've been playing the game obsessively and thought it'd be a crying shame not to write a small story about good old Pagan Min. Ah, there are so many good characters in this game. 
> 
> And yes, it is short. There is only so much you can write for first person rants. 
> 
> Leave a kudos or review or whatever. It'll make me unnaturally happy.


End file.
